and from them Bessie heard of the variations
in her condition almost from hour to hour. When all was over Bessie, in
her weak condition, was crushed and exhausted. She seemed unable to
endure the shock of this sudden blow, and at first could only lie and
moan, "Oh, why was she taken and I left?"

Archdeacon Atkinson, a near neighbour and old friend of her sister's,
did his best to soothe and comfort her. The grief of Mr. Bowles and the
children roused her. She saw how much they needed help, and before long
she was the old brave Bessie, full of thought for the sorrow of others,
and engrossed by her endeavours to console and comfort them.

Before the death of Mrs. Bowles it had been arranged that Bessie should
spend the winter at Torquay. This plan was adhered to; and in November
1873, travelling in one of the railway companies invalid carriages, she
bore the journey fairly well, and reached Torquay without the terrible
suffering caused by her previous journey.

She had bright and sunny rooms in Sulyarde Terrace, and on fine days she
was still able to spend a few hours out of doors, reclining in an
invalid chair; sometimes also she could sit up in her chair for an hour
or two, and at this time, when her food was duly prepared, she was still
able to feed herself. Her sister Lucy, Mrs. Casson, with husband and
many children, resided at Torquay; and she found here, also, a kind
brother-in-law, unremitting in his attentions, and numerous young
nephews and nieces, whom she knew and loved. In January 1874 Levy died.
Father, mother, and sister; house and home and health had been taken
from Bessie; and now the faithful servant and friend of her whole life
followed. She had put great constraint upon herself at the time of her
sister's illness and death, but she was powerless against this blow.
Deep depression settled down upon her, which took the form of constant
self-reproach. She, the most unselfish and considerate of women, was
given over, as it were, to an avenging spirit, which upbraided her with
faults never committed, and exacted expiation for imaginary crimes of
selfishness and self-seeking. Such dark passages may be borne in mind by
other sufferers, tortured with self-questionings and doubt.

The first thing to rouse her was the desire to say some words to the
blind men and women on whose behalf Mr. Levy had worked for so many
years. As soon as she had somewhat recovered, she wrote perhaps the most
touching record we